


Don't you forget about me

by QueensEverywhere (Blodeuwedd)



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Amnesia, Amnesia AU, M/M, Vanjie x Silky friendship, a bit of angst, a bit of everything really, a bit of smut, a lot of confused Vanessa, but make it fun, out of drag names used
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blodeuwedd/pseuds/QueensEverywhere
Summary: José wakes up in a hospital after an accident and he seems to have forgotten a few important things about his life...Amnesia, but make it fun
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 149
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I chose to use their names out of drag most of the time because it makes more sense for this story. Also, it's my AU and I decided covid-19 doesn't exist in it (it would make some parts of it very difficult). 
> 
> Also, and very important: never have I, or anyone I know, had amnesia. I'm also not a doctor or nurse, and the internet is not as helpful as one would assume regarding knowledge about amnesia. Basically, don't quote me on any of the amnesia stuff, thanks. Oh, and if you spot errors of any kind, please let me know (gently). 
> 
> Leave kudos and comments if you like it, please. ♥ And come find me on Tumblr if you want to (thehonorarybeaumont).

“Fuck!” José curses under his breath as he sees the bus he’s supposed to take as soon as he leaves the store. If he misses it, he’ll have to wait 30 minutes for the next one, and it’s raining heavily. He’s tired, hungry, and just wants to go home, so without really thinking he decides to make a run for it, taking steps as long as his short legs will allow him. He’s almost there when he slips on the wet pavement and falls backwards, letting out a high-pitch scream that was sure to make him embarrassed if not for the fact that everything goes black a fraction of a second later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He blinks his eyes open, squinting under the harsh bright lights. Where on Earth…

“José? Oh, thank god!” He turns his head slightly to the sound of his mom’s voice. She’s looming over him an instant later, a worried look on her face. “It’s ok baby, don’t try to speak. I’m going to call the doctor.”

She’s gone the next second, yelling for a doctor like José is dying. Wait, is he dying? He doesn’t feel like he’s dying, though his head hurts a bit and he’s clearly in a hospital. He must have hit his head pretty hard. Damn, he shouldn’t have run. Banged his head and made his mom worry. Not to mention the hospital bill they’ll have to pay later, god knows how. Fuck, he’s such an idiot sometimes.

“Mr. Cancel?”

He looks up at the doctor staring at him, a man who appears to be in his forties, tall and heavy, with an imposing figure. “I’m Dr. Mirani. I’m glad to see you awake, you gave your mom here quite the scare” he nods to his mother, who has rounded the bed and is standing on his other side. José looks at her, noticing how worried she looks, stress lines on her face. She even looks older, though that might be just because he’s not used to seeing her without make-up, ever. She must have been really worried.

“Sorry” he tries to say, though his voice comes out raspy and barely audible. He coughs a little. “ ‘m thirsty.”

His mother quickly grabs a bottle of water that she must have kept around for when he woke up and opens it, shoving a straw inside and offering it to him. Meanwhile the doctor adjusts his bed so he’s slightly more upright. It’s only then that he notices his right arm is in a cast. Oh, god, he broke his arm as well? How are they going to pay for all of this?

He sips the water, parched, and clears his throat again.

“Sorry ma.” Much better, even though he still doesn’t sound like his normal self. How long was he out?

She gently strokes his cheek. “It’s okay baby, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re awake.”

“How long was I out?” he voices his concern.

“Nearly 72 hours,” the doctor answers, and José’s eyes widen.

“That’s a lot!”

It makes the doctor chuckle. “It is quite a bit, yes, but it could have been worse. I need to ask you some questions now to make sure everything’s ok. They might sound silly, but I need you to answer as truthfully as possible.”

“Wait, you think the fall made me crazy, doc?”

“The fall?” his mom asks, but he doesn’t pay her much attention, he’s eyes glued on the doctor, who’s chuckling again and shaking his head. 

“Not crazy, but sometimes trauma can have some more lasting effects, so I need to assess your condition to make sure you’re getting the best treatment.”

He’s not very convinced, but he’s also still a bit dizzy and confused, so he just nods. “Alright then.”

First the doctor asks him to raise his left arm, then wiggle his fingers on both hands, then the same with his legs and toes. José has no idea why he has to do this, and the doctor was right, it does seem a bit silly, but it’s also the easiest evaluation he’s ever gone through, and he’s happy to see the doctor seems satisfied.

After that, the doctor switches to general questions.

“Can you tell me your full name?”

He rolls his eyes, but answers dutifully. “José Luis Cancel.”

The doctor checks something on a paper and continues. “And how old are you?”

“20, almost 21.” 

The doctor looks at him, frowning a bit before asking the next question. “What year is this?”

José snorts. “2012. And before you ask, ‘cause I know you’re ‘bout to, the president is Obama.”

“Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?” he frowns at his mother’s tone, turning to look at her. 

“What do you mean?”

“Please, don’t be alarmed, madam” the doctor sounds more like he’s admonishing her than trying to calm her down. 

He turns back to José. 

“You seem to be suffering from post-trauma amnesia, but don’t panic, that’s more common than you’d think in situations like these.”

“Ama what? That memory shit?”

He notices a slight smile on the corner of the doctor's lips. “Yes, exactly. You suffered a car accident and that made you forget some things. Like I said, it’s not uncommon, and normally it goes away after a short period.”

“So he’ll remember everything again?” his mom asks, at the same time as he’s saying “Wait, what did I forget?”

The doctor nods at his mother first. “Yes, in most cases the memory gradually comes back and is fully restored within a few weeks or months, sometimes even just a few days. You’re just going to have to be patient and let time heal him, although it’s ok if you want to fill in the blanks and tell him some of the things he doesn’t remember, or even try to jog his memory by showing him a few pictures or videos. Just don’t overdo it so as not to overwhelm him.”

Finally, he addresses José again. “You seem to have forgotten the past eight years.”

“WHAT?!”


	2. Chapter 2

José stares at the doctor in shock. Did he just say eight years? Eight motherfucking years? That means he’s… ew, nearly 30? What the fuck? He can’t remember the best years of his life? Well, what he’s assuming were the best years of his life. Who knows, maybe they sucked and he’s better not remembering them. Still, what the fuck?

The doctor checks his blood pressure, listens to his heartbeat, draws some blood for whatever exams he needs to make and makes some recommendations before he finally leaves and José is alone with his mother. He’s still stunned, his mind seeming to, at the same time, run a mile a minute and be completely blank. It’s just the same thought spinning through his head over and over again. 

_ What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?  _

His mother seems to still know him well though, for she pulls a chair beside the bed and sits close to him, taking his hand. 

“Don’t worry, I’m going to tell you everything you don’t remember. And the doctor said your memories will come back soon anyway, so I’m sure it’s going to be fine.” When he doesn’t answer her, still stunned, she tries to lighten up the atmosphere. “Just think of all the movies and shows you get to watch for the first time again.”

That makes him chuckle, though it also seems to open the gate for the tears that suddenly start flowing freely, running down his cheeks as he attempts to cover his face.

“Oh, no, no, baby, don’t worry. It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok.” His mother stands up and hugs him, holding him close to her chest and chanting comforting words, allowing him to cry until his tears subside and he seems to calm down a bit.

“What if I never remember?” he whispers, his face still hidden.

“I’m sure you will.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“Then, lucky for you, you and I have a great relationship and you tell me everything that goes on in your life, so I’ll be able to give you the rundown of your past eight years. It’ll be great, you know I love talking, we’ll have things to talk about for weeks!”

He snorts, wiping his tears with the back of his hand and reaching for the water to take another sip. He only then notices the tattoos on his arm he didn’t have before. It’s real then. He really forgot shit. A lot of shit.

He sighs, suddenly feeling tired, even though he hasn’t been awake for too long. His eyelids feel heavy and he struggles to keep his eyes open.

“I think I’ll take a nap.”

“You do that, baby.”

He’s out before she even finishes the sentence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Just five more minutes _ , it’s his first thought, the bright light hurting his eyes already even before he opens them. He can hear his mom’s voice, low and not addressed at him, and someone else’s as well, someone he doesn’t recognize. And then he remembers… that would be most people nowadays. When he’d been told about the amnesia, his first thought was that he had forgotten the events in his life. He’s only now catching up to the fact that he’s probably also forgotten several people.

He keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, concentrating, trying his hardest to remember the voice, but to no avail. When he opens his eyes, he sees his mom sitting on the nearby couch, a person he doesn’t know in front of her. It seems to be a man, though slightly androgenous, black and fat, wearing thick glasses and a turban. José clears his throat and they both look at him, the man smiling broadly.

“Finally you’re awake, bitch!”

José eyes widen. Whoever this is, he seems to be pretty intimate.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling today?” his mother asks, coming closer to help him sit up and drink some water.

“Erm… Ok. I guess. As ok as possible.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah...I mean, no. I mean, I remember that I don’t remember. And that there was a car crash. That’s all.”

“Yeah, you gave us quite a scare there, Vanj” the stranger says, making José frown again. 

“Oh, fuck, right! You don’t know who I am, do ya?”

José shakes his head slightly. “Not really, sorry. Are we… friends?”

“Bitch, we’re best friends! We ride or die! Also, I’m the president of the United States and you owe me money.”

José snorts. He can see why this man would be his best friend.

“Nah, I’m just joking. About the money, that is. And the president part, of course. I wish! But the rest is true, we really are best friends. We were even roommates for a bit.”

José smiles. “That must have been fun. Erm… Sorry, but… I don’t know what your name is.”

“Oh, fuck, my bad! Name is Reginald, but ain’t nobody call me that except for the police. My family calls me Reggie, but you can also call me Silky, it’s my drag name. I also respond to your majesty.”

José laughs again, before what he’s said fully registers. “Wait, drag name? You a drag queen? Like on RuPaul?”

“Wait… You don’t tell her?” Reggie (Silky?) turns to his mother, leaving José very confused. Her who? Tell what?

“I didn’t really have time to tell him anything. But you can. The doctor only said not to overdo it.”

Reggie turns to him again. “Hell yeah, I’m a drag queen. And so are you, that’s how we met. We were both on the show together.”

“I’m a WHAT?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yer a wiza-- a drag queen, José 
> 
> Sorry, I had to. And yes, I'm aware I ended this chapter with the WHAT word again. Poor José is very confused and this is probably the most common word on this fic lol
> 
> Also, thanks for all the positive comments! I'll try to get this updated twice a week, since the chapters are quite short.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much for all the kind comments, they make me so happy, each and every one of them.  
> Two - this is my first multi-chapter in the fandom, but I have some drabbles and one-shots, if you're interested.  
> And third, come find me on my Tumblr if you want to! It's thehonorarybeaumont.   
> And now, without further ado...

Reggie shows him some pictures and videos of him performing, on Instagram, on YouTube, all over the internet. He learns that his drag name is Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, that Alexis Mateo is his drag mother, and that most people know him as Miss Vanjie. He is a drag queen. And a good one. And a famous one. He has fans all over the world and he performs on bright stages for crowded audiences who chant his name. It’s surreal. He briefly wonders if he’s still in a coma and this is all a dream.

The doctors come too, do a bunch of exams on him, leaving him exhausted, but they give him good news. He’s been recovering very well, and should be given the clear to go home in a couple of days, if all goes well. He still has several cuts and bruises, as well as the broken arm, but all things considered, he knows he got lucky. The biggest damage seems to really be the amnesia. Yay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He gets more visitors the next day. The first one is his brother, and it’s a shock to see him so grown up. Although he suspects he’s also grown up himself. Oh, no, does he have wrinkles? He hasn’t had a chance to look at himself in a mirror yet. His brother brings him some flowers and a cute teddy bear and they chat for a little bit, but he doesn’t stay long.

Next is yet another guy he doesn’t recognize. He’s smiling and seems friendly, and he’s also pretty cute, and he brings him flowers as well, and some colorful balloons. It looks nice, kind of adds some life to the hospital room. His mom seems to know him well though, and greets him with a warm hug and excited voice.

“Who are you? And I don’t mind if you say my husband.”

The guy laughs, but shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. I’m Jason, and I’m your friend and former manager.”

“Oh, nice to meet you. I mean, I guess you already know me, but… Sorry, this is weird.”

Jason shakes his head again, still smiling. “Don’t worry about it, Silky told me about the amnesia.”

“Do I not have a husband though? Or a boyfriend at least?” he turns to his mom, frowning. “I’m nearly thirty, how am I still single?”

To his dismay, both she and Jason laugh. 

“He’s always been like that then, huh?” 

“Always.”

José huffs. He really can’t understand what’s so funny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The third and last visitor of the day comes in the afternoon. A tall and thin guy, with blonde curls and big blue eyes, holding flowers in his tattooed fingers. José nearly gasps out loud with how handsome he is, and he almost jokes again about him being his boyfriend, but he knows now that he’s single and, let’s be honest, no way a guy this gorgeous would ever look twice at him. But hey, he can dream.

“Hm...hi” the guy says, looking shy. “I, erm… I brought…” He looks at the nearby table which is filled to the brim with flowers and balloons. “...flowers” he finishes, looking embarrassed, his cheeks flushed as he looks down.

“Thank you” José replies, smiling, while his mother takes the flowers from the stranger. “I don’t know if you know this, but I can’t remember shit, so I’m gonna have to ask you to introduce yourself, boo.”

The guy smiles for the first time, and approaches his bed. “I’m Brock.”

He looks intently at José’s face and frowns, then reaches over and carefully touches his cheek with his fingertips. Before José can even register what’s happening, it’s already over, Brock withdrawing his hand and sitting on the chair next to the bed.

“How are you feeling? Damn, sorry, that’s a stupid question.”

José chuckles. “No, that’s alright. And I’m feeling better than you’d think. They gave me a bunch of drugs, so I’m not in pain. Bored as hell though. And still can’t remember a bunch of stuff, but the doc said I will, so… I’m not that bad, I guess.”

Brock sighs. “That’s good. I was very worried about you.” 

José feels a warmth in his heart that he can’t quite explain when he hears that. He can’t help but smile. “You were?” Then he tilts his head, pondering. “How do I know you, again? Don’t tell me you a drag queen too!”

Brock laughs and, to his dismay, nods. “Actually, I am. My drag name is Brooke Lynn Hytes.”

“Brooklyn? What kind of name is that? Next you’ll say you have a drag sister called Manhattan.”

That makes Brock laugh loudly, his hands flying to cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle the noise, his eyes filling with unshed tears. It makes José feel strangely accomplished, being able to make this beautiful man who’s pretty much a stranger to him laugh.

Unfortunately the visit is cut short when a nurse comes over to take him to another room for yet another battery of exams. He complains, but the nurse says they’re necessary to make sure he can go home the next day and he stops arguing. He wants nothing more than to get out of this hospital.

“You come visit when I’m home?” 

Brock grins and nods. “Sure.”

José doesn’t know why, but that makes him feel very happy.


	4. Chapter 4

José thought meeting people who he supposedly was friends with but had absolutely no recollection of was as weird as it could get, but as it turns out, stepping into what’s supposed to be your apartment even though you don’t remember ever being there is even weirder. The decor is not at all like the apartment where he used to live, the one he remembers. There’s a lot more pink and fluffiness than he expected, but it doesn’t look bad. Quite the contrary, it looks soothing, cozy. There are pictures of him on the walls and on picture frames, in and out of drag, and he pauses to look at each of them, analysing them bit by bit, hoping something will spark a memory within his brain, but no such luck. Not yet. 

Looking at himself in a mirror is also very, very strange. It’s him, it’s clearly him, but also not. He looks different. His face is not so round, his hair is just starting to grow back after being shaved off by the doctors, the light stubble he’s got looks good on him and the wrinkles he’d worried about aren’t there yet. Even though he still looks a bit pale and not overall healthy, he looks  _ good _ . 

His mother’s husband (and wasn’t that another big surprise!) brings him his cat, Thackery Binx, and he can’t help but coo over how cute he is, all fluffy and white, with his grumpy face but sweet demeanor, brushing up against his leg and accommodating himself on his lap when he sits on the couch. 

His mother insists on staying over, despite his protests that he can take care of himself just fine, even with a broken arm and amnesia. He forgot some things that happened, but he still knows how to be an adult. Still, it’s a compromise from what she originally wanted, which was for him to stay at her place for a while. Hopefully he’ll be able to show her he’s ok and she’ll leave. Fingers crossed.

He doesn’t do much on his first day back home, still tired and a bit drowsy with medication, but being able to take a proper shower and sleep on a regular bed is already a blessing. He doesn’t remember his bed, but the bed sure seems to remember him, the mattress feeling extremely comfortable to him. On the second day, however, he knows exactly what he wants to do: watch himself on RuPaul’s Drag Race.

After asking his mom which season he participated in (and getting a strange “erm, well, season ten, I guess” as an answer) and struggling a bit to figure out how to see the episodes (technology changes very fast, ok?), he finally leans back on the couch, Thackery sitting on the back of it, and presses play. 

It’s a strange mixture of pride and shame watching himself in a show like that. On one hand, he can’t believe he did something so monumental, that he was on TV, that millions of people all over the world watched him and know who he is, that he is among some of the best drag queens in the country. On the other hand, did he always talk like that? Dress like that? Look like that? He feels like he can’t bear how cringey it all is. And it’s all made worse by the fact that he literally has no idea what he’s done or said. It’s like the world’s worst hangover.

“Wait, where’s Reggie?” he asks after all the girls have been introduced. “He said we met on the show, didn’t he?”

“Well, you did” he mom replies with a sly smile. “Just not this season.”

“Not this season? I was on more than one season? Like Shangela?”

“Exactly like her. You got eliminated in the first episode of season ten, but RuPaul loved you so much he brought you back on the next one.”

“I got eliminated in the first episode? Aw, man…” He looks at his frozen image on the screen. It figures.

“That’s ok, you went viral and people love you. You’ll see.”

“I guess” he says, resuming the episode, still pouting a bit. 

He watches the lipsync through his fingers, though it’s not as bad as he’d imagined. That is until the other queen sends fake money flying all over the stage and his shoe flies off during a death drop. He can’t help but feel a little humiliated. He imagines he felt humiliated back then as well. Then he leaves the stage while saying his nickname over and over again, which just adds to the embarrassment. What the fuck was he thinking?

“Oh my God, and people like me? Are you sure? I just made a complete fool out of myself!”

“People loved you because you showed them your heart. And you also became a meme, everyone was talking about you on the internet. You were a sensation! RuPaul loved you. You’ll see, your sisters will keep saying your name.”

He scoffs and pouts. He doesn’t really feel like watching it anymore. He’d been so excited at first, but now he feels like an idiot. Still, he presses play on the next episode. Even though he’s not there anymore, he’s invested now and wants to see who’s going to win and what the challenges will be. At least he gets to watch it like a regular fan, like he remembers doing. 

He’s halfway through the second episode when Reggie arrives, bringing some homemade cookies with him. 

“I was going to bring booze,” he explains “but your mom said you’re still taking painkillers, so you can’t drink.”

Since Reggie is there to keep him company, his mom takes the opportunity to go home for a while, and José could sigh with relief. He loves his mom, and he knows how fortunate he is to have a good relationship with her and to be able to count on her for anything, including taking care of him whenever he needs it. However, he could also use a break from her.

Plus, Reggie is funny. He shows him a video message from another friend José doesn’t remember, someone called A’keria, who says he’s waiting for him to get better so they can get shit-faced together again. He laughs, and asks Reggie to answer that it’s a deal. He’s happy he seems to have such great friends, even if he can’t remember them yet.

They eat the cookies, which are delicious by the way, and watch Drag Race together, Reggie interjecting with funny comments every now and then, as well as telling him gossip about many of the girls. It’s a lot more fun watching with him, and José feels comfortable enough to confide in him and tell him how humiliated he felt after his elimination. Reggie reassures him that everybody loves him and that he has a legion of fans. He shows him his Instagram again, and this time he has more time to scroll through the pictures and short videos of himself performing, reading some of the comments. They are all compliments, heart or fire emojis and, the most recent ones, concern over his health. There are several comments of people wondering how he’s doing. 

“They know about the accident.” Reggie clarifies. “I told them you were doing ok, but I have a lot less followers, so not everybody saw it. Or maybe they just didn’t believe it, since they couldn’t see it.”

“Hm… I wish I knew my password for this. Do you?”

“Bish, you tell me almost everything, but this is one thing you did not tell me, sorry.”

He pouts. “Damn… I thought maybe I could post something for my fans. You know, just so they know I’m alive and all. I’m not gonna tell them about the memory stuff, cause that shit’s private, but, you know… Just something to say hello.”

“You can use mine again. Like I said, I don’t have as many followers, but maybe if I tag you they’ll see it. How’s that?”

“I’m not sure how that works, but I trust you. Let’s do it!”

Silky opens the camera and points the phone at him and he shrieks. “Not yet! Let me fix my hair first!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi, everyone” he says to the camera, feeling a bit awkward since he doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Plus, he hasn’t completely grasped the notion that he has fans yet. A bunch of people, all over the world, who care about him and want to know how he’s doing? That’s surreal.

“Just letting y’all know I’m ok, I’m alive, all’s good.” He looks at Reggie, who encourages him to keep talking. “I’m still not a hundred percent, but I’m getting there. I’m home with my cat and my mom’s taking care of me, and Re...Silky too.” He looks at his friend apologetically, but Reggie just shrugs, not minding the slip-up at all. 

“Anyway, just wanted to say thank you for all your kind messages, your comments asking how I was and all. And to let you know I’m doing better. My phone broke so I don’t have my own profile right now, but I’ll try to fix that soon. Anyway, that’s all, thank you everybody.” He waves and Reggie nods, turning off the camera.

In a matter of minutes there’s already a bunch of comments on the post of people saying they’re relieved to see him again, they’re rooting for him, praying for him, hoping to see him perform soon, that they love him. It’s a bit overwhelming, but he can’t deny it feels good. And he makes one decision. He needs a new phone stat.


	5. Chapter 5

Turns out having amnesia is anything but simple. Not only is José not able to remember several very important facts of his life, he also has no clue what his passwords are. For anything. And unfortunately he hadn’t had the hindsight of writing them somewhere or informing his mom of them, which means he now has no access to his bank account. Not that his credit cards had survived the crash either. He ends up needing a document from the hospital attesting his amnesia in order to have access to his money again, not to mention he has to go redo some of his documents. It’s a giant hassle and the red tape makes it very tiring, especially since he’s not totally physically recovered yet. His mother helps as much as she can, but he ends up having to wait for what seems like forever for all the bureaucracy to unravel. And patience is not one of José’s virtues.

He ends up spending most of his awake time for the next few days dealing with the mess. He’s still taking some strong medicine that leaves him groggy for a long time, so at most he’s able to talk to Reggie for a little bit, play with Thackery for a few minutes and watch one episode of Drag Race before he’s out like a light. It’s a whole week before he’s able to finally finish the season. He’s happy for Aquaria, she seemed nice and talented, and excited to at last dive into season 11 - his comeback!

He sits on his couch, Thackery lying next to him on the armrest, his mother occupying a chair nearby, and presses play, hugging a bowl of popcorn to his chest. He’s happy to be the first one in this time, even happier to see how much he’d evolved from the previous season to this one. He looked better in and out of drag, and his whole skit of hiding was actually rather funny. When all the girls say his drag name and he bursts out of his hiding place, he can see how much people actually like him. It makes him warm inside, but also a bit sad that he can’t remember any of it. He doesn’t remember his sisters, the challenges, the fun he must have had. He keeps looking at his pictures in his living room, hoping every day that he’ll recover his memories, but so far, nothing. He watches as Reggie - Silky - enters the workroom, clapping and cheering for his friend. Brock - Brooke Lynn - comes right after her, looking like one of those Canadians police people.

“I didn’t know he was Canadian” José observes, also cheering. “Wait, didn’t he say he’d come and visit some time?”

His mom just shrugs, eyes still focused on the TV. “Does he have my address?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hm… Do you have his phone number? Maybe I should call him, tell him I’m doing better.”

“No,” his mom answers, rather dryly, making him frown. She’s acting weird. Maybe she doesn’t like Brock? That’s odd. His mom likes everyone. He decides not to press the issue; he can ask Reggie about it later. 

He keeps on watching, cheering again when Silky wins the first mini-challenge. Then it’s time for them to get out of drag and he can’t help but ogle at Brock’s bare chest and big smile. He’s pretty cute. He shrieks in horror as his past-self mirrors his thoughts, saying in his confessional that it’s a good view. He pauses and covers his face, feeling utterly embarrassed. Is it still called second-hand embarrassed if you’re embarrassed for your past-self for something you don’t remember doing? 

“I can’t believe I said that out loud! Oh my god, people were watching that? He was watching that? Uggggh”

His mother chuckles and he gives her the stink eye, which makes her laugh even more.

“Just keep watching.” 

He does so, feeling himself blush when Brock praises him. He keeps his eyes on the TV, avoiding eye contact with his mom. She doesn’t seem to like Brock, and he doesn’t want her opinion on this. He can’t help but smile at the praise though. 

He cheers once more when Brooke wins the design challenge, happy his two friends won the two challenges of the episode. Granted, he’d feel even happier if he had won something himself, but he’ll take it. He did do good on this episode, so at least there’s that. He manages to watch one more episode, fueled by his enthusiasm, and is in awe of his outfit. It looks absolutely gorgeous. It’s still weird to think of himself as a drag queen, but knowing he gets to wear things like this wonderful red dress actually makes him understand a bit better why he decided to do it. He cringes a bit at his performance on the challenge, but overall it’s not bad, and he’s proud of himself once more. 

For the first time since he woke up from his coma, he remembers his dreams. It’s blurry and fuzzy, his whereabouts undefined, but the person with him couldn’t be clearer. It’s Brock, lying on a bed, half naked, José kissing all over his neck and chest. He nibbles on his neck, places open mouthed kisses on his chest, licks his nipples, touches him everywhere. Brock pulls him closer for a deep, sensual kiss, and he realizes he’s also half naked when their chests touch. They’re both hard and the friction between them through the thin layers of fabric still separating sends a jolt of heat down his body. He moans against Brock’s lips, shuddering, but suddenly the feeling is gone and he’s lying on his bed awake and alone. He sighs and groans. Damn it, why couldn’t that be real? On the other hand, he has a crush on his friend? Oh, shit. He’s still hard in his pajamas, and he’s ever so glad his mom has set up an air mattress in the living room. He already feels humiliated enough. He touches himself, allowing his mind to drift back to thoughts of Brock and his naked chest. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing wrong with a fantasy, right? 


	6. Chapter 6

Reggie comes over the next day to keep him company while his mom goes home for a while, now that all the bureaucracy has been dealt with - for now, at least. His agent has called as well and volunteered to help with paperwork if he needed, which was a blessing. They have also told him not to worry about going back to work until he was fully healed, which he was thankful for, since right now he had no idea how to even begin to be a drag queen. He also felt very fancy, having an agent. 

José tells Reggie excitedly that he has started watching the show, and that he can’t believe they met Miley Cyrus - freaking Hannah Montana! - and that Reggie carried her on his shoulder. 

“How many episodes have you watched so far?”

“Just two”, José sighs. “But I’m excited to watch the rest!”

“Oh, you’re still in the beginning then. Bish… Just you wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Everything!”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see. Our season was lit!”

“Lit?”

“Yeah, lit. Like fire.”

“Oooh”

“Damn, you don’t even remember the lingo?”

José pouts, feeling frustrated once more. He feels so helpless having to count on his mom and Reggie for everything. At least he’ll soon have his documents and access to his bank account, and hopefully he won’t have to wear a cast for much long either. Baby steps.

“Wanna watch episode three?” Reggie asks, waking him from his reverie.

He grins. “Sure.”

They sit on the couch, José huddling in a corner with Thackery on his lap, and start the episode. He notices he’s standing next to Brock in the beginning and is reminded of his dream from the night before. He feels himself blushing at the memory, but keeps his focus on the TV, hoping Reggie won’t notice. He wonders if he already had a crush on Brock before? If so, does anyone know? Does  _ he _ know? Oh, god, please don’t let him know. Unless it’s mutual, then please let him know and do something about it. It was just a fantasy, but he can’t say he’d mind making it a reality. 

He keeps watching, laughing at his own antics during their Britney worship, feeling proud of himself for pulling that out. People always say he’s funny, but to have such strong confirmation of it that’s not by his friends makes him understand a bit better why he enjoys this career. He’s always wanted to be a performer, he sort of is already, being a dancer, and he’s always admired the big divas. This feels right. He cringes at the other group’s performance, hoping Mariah Carey hasn’t actually watched that; she deserved better. And then it happens. They kiss. Or rather Brock kisses him, coming up to hug him and calling him  _ papi _ , and suddenly there’s lips on lips and that’s  _ definitely _ more than just friendship. 

“What?!” he shouts, ignoring Reggie’s loud laughter, his eyes focused on the TV. A’keria is saying something, but he doesn’t know what, can’t keep up with it, his mind stuck on that kiss. Oh. My. God. OH MY GOD. OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD! The episode keeps playing, but he has no clue what’s happening on the screen anymore because Brock kissed him. And he kissed him back. They kissed. On the lips. On TV. In front of cameras. People saw it. His mom saw it. Everybody saw it. OH MY GOD!

He finally snaps out of it, turning to Reggie with wide eyes. “We kissed?!” he yells, unable to keep his voice down even if he wanted to. “What the hell?”

Reggie, the asshole, just keeps laughing, so hard he’s wheezing, and José throws a fluffy cushion at him. “Bitch, I’m freaking out here! A little help, please! We kissed? Did we kiss again? Was this a thing? Were we together? What the hell happened? Wait…” He realizes something, pausing mid-rant. Brock hadn’t said anything when they met. Surely if they’d been together he’d have said something, right? Which has to mean whatever happened between them was probably nothing serious and ended long before. He guesses it’s not like Brock could come up to him and say ‘hi, I’m your ex, nice to meet you’. Yeah, that would have been weird. Weird _ er _ . He can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Did they even really have something or was it just that kiss?

“Are you gonna tell me now?” he demands, when Reggie seems to have calmed down.

“Bitch, your face!”

He throws another cushion, which sends his friend into another fit of laughter. He rolls his eyes and rewinds the video to the kiss. Clearly Reggie will be no help, he might as well keep watching to see what happens. He hopes he got to kiss Brock again. Better yet, he hopes he actually had sex with him at some point. He also hopes he gets his memories back soon.

He stays on the edge of his seat for the rest of the episode, but nothing else happens between them. Even though the other group’s performance was bad, he’s shocked at the six-way lipsync, but finds the whole thing highly entertaining. Equally entertaining is the fight between Silky and Yvie during the Untucked episode. Silky is going for it, yelling that she was ready to lipsync if she had to, and José laughs at his friend.

“Bitch, you went off!”

“I said what I said! And I sure meant it!” 

He starts the next episode right away, gasping in surprise when Brooke says he looks good and slaps his ass. He pauses the show, fully turning his attention to his friend.

“Ok, that’s it, what’s the deal? What happened there? And I know you know all of it, so spit it out!”

“Not much to tell. You dated, you broke up, end of story.”

“Wait, we dated? Like, actually, for real, in the real world dated?”

Reggie rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. Yeah, you did. What’s the big deal?”

He looks down bashfully, feeling his cheeks heating up. “He’s cute…”

“Oh! Oh, hell no! No, no more!” Reggie yells, surprising him.

“No more what? I just said he looks cute.”

“Yeah, and I’ve heard that before. Nope, that’s it. You dated a long time ago, don’t even think about it. You broke up, you’re friends now, leave it at that.”

“Jeez… Ok,” he consents, resuming the episode, though inside he’s screaming. He wonders how long they dated for and why they broke up. Reggie definitely doesn’t seem to want to talk about it though, so he lets it go. He remembers his mom didn’t seem to like Brock either. Maybe it was a bad break up? But how bad could it have been, if they’re still friends? He knows there’s only one person who can answer his questions.

“Are you two still in touch?”

Reggie frowns at him. “Me and Brooke Lynn?”

“Yeah… He came to the hospital to see me and said he’d come by to visit, but he still hasn’t, so… I was hoping you could tell him I’m waiting.”

Reggie sighs, rolling his eyes again. “Alright, I’ll tell him. But you’d better not get your hopes up, bitch. That ship’s sailed. Period.”

“I know that,” he assents, though he doesn’t really. It’s not like he remembers what happened anyway. “I just want to talk, see if maybe I remember something.”

Reggie’s face softens. “Sure, I’ll tell him.”

José smiles and thanks his friend. He’s got something else to look forward to now.


	7. Chapter 7

They keep watching the show, Reggie telling him details of things that weren’t caught on camera, and he wishes more than anything that his memory would come back, that there was some kind of switch he could turn on, button he could press, potion he could take. Unfortunately, what he needs is time, and the more time passes, the more he feels like he is never going to remember. So he listens attentively when Reggie speaks, taking mental notes of all the little things he tells him, the girls they like best and the ones they’re not friends with, the funny things that happened backstage, the camaraderie, the fights. If he can’t access his memories, he might as well make new ones. 

Watching himself and Brock kiss in front of everyone during the Untucked, it’s impossible to control the butterflies in his stomach. 

“Wait, everyone knew?”

“Of course we knew, you bitches wouldn’t stop making smacking noises on the van. It was annoying as fuck!”

He smiles in spite of himself. “Did RuPaul know?”

“RuPaul knows everything, honey.”

“Oh. And it was ok?”

“Sure it was, y’all were bringing in the audience. The fans were living for that Branjie shit.”

“For the what?”

“Branjie. Brooke Lynn and Vanjie. You know, li…”

“Like Brangelina?!” she cuts in, screaming. 

“...ke Brangeli… yeah…” Reggie says at the same time. “They broke up by the way.”

“Who, Brangelina?”

“Yeah. He cheated.”

“He cheated?!”

“Allegedly.”

“Oh my god.”

“Can’t trust white men.”

He ponders for a couple of seconds. 

“Did Brock cheat?” he blurts out the question that’s on his mind. “Wait, no, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

“Alright.”

“Wait, did he?”

“Do you want to know now?”

“Yes. No. Yes. Fuck, he did, didn’t he?”

“You want me to tell you or not, bitch?”

He pouts, hugging a cushion for comfort. “Yes…”

“Yes. Allegedly.”

“What do you mean, allegedly. Did he or did he not?”

“That’s what you told me, but he says he didn’t.”

“What? What does that mean? You either cheat or you don’t. There’s no maybe.”

“Told you. Can’t trust white men.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He resumes the show, though his attention is not fully in it. His brain keeps going back to what Reggie said about him and Brock dating and Brock cheating on him. His mind is crowded with images and scenes of them together and of them fighting, some contradicting the others, and he wonders if any of them is a memory attempting to be set free or if they’re all figments of his imagination. He doesn’t know, but he does know he needs to talk to Brock sooner rather than later. He gets his wish the following afternoon, when he finally comes to visit, a plastic bag on his hand. José tries to ignore how hot he looks in a simple white T-shirt, denim shorts and a black fanny pack - and briefly wonders if fanny packs are back, and also why.

“I brought some cake,” Brock says, taking said cake out of the bag and placing it on the kitchen table.

José frowns. Cake? He likes cake alright, but it’s definitely not his favorite food...

“I know cake’s not your favorite food,” Brock says, startling him. Can this bitch read minds? “...but this one was your favorite. I figured you wouldn’t remember it though, so I thought I’d reintroduce it to you.”

José eyes the cake suspiciously, while his mother briefly thanks Brock for it and starts cutting them some slices. They move to the living room, where Thackery happily jumps down from his tower to greet Brock, rubbing on his legs and purring. Hm. Guess they really are friends, then. Or at least his cat and Brock are. 

Brock crouches down and scratches under Thackery’s chin. “Hi, baby!” he coos in a high-pitched voice. “I missed you!” Thackery mews and closes his eyes in delight and José stares at them dumbfounded. They seem really close. A bit too close. How is Brock this close to  _ his _ cat? He leans down and picks up Thackery, then sits on the couch, holding the cat close to his chest. He’s not jealous. But it’s  _ his _ cat.

“I brought you something too” Brock says, still in a high-pitched voice, sitting at the other end of the couch while he reaches into his fanny pack and takes out a small plastic envelope. Thackery wiggles in his arms and José lets him go, watching as he eats some treats out of Brock’s hand. Traitor.

His mother brings them each a big slice of cake and retreats into the kitchen. José knows she’s trying to give them a bit of privacy, but he’s also hyper aware that she’s not really that far and can actually see and hear them well enough. He imagines it’s her way of saying she’s there for him if he needs her while also attempting not to be too overbearing. It’s kind of sweet, and he’s once more thankful for his mom.

He bites into the cake, nearly moaning when the sweet flavor reaches his tongue. This is actually some really good cake. Fuck.

“You’re watching.”

He looks up at Brock, who’s pointing at the TV, an episode of Drag Race paused. It’s the eighth episode, and he’s just watched both he and Brock (and Yvie, to be honest) completely bomb the Snatch Game challenge. 

“Hm… yeah. It’s not looking good for us.”

Brock shakes his head. “I thought you were good. At least you made RuPaul laugh. Me and Yvie though…” he makes a face of disgust, and José laughs in spite of himself. He doesn’t want to laugh. He is mad at him. Wait, why is he mad again? Oh, right. The cheating. He unpauses the episode and together they watch the runway, silently eating their slices of cake.

His jaw drops during Brooke Lynn’s runway, and he can’t help but feel a bit proud. That was his boyfriend. Maybe not anymore, but at some point he was the one having sex with that guy, that gorgeous, sexy guy who’s dressed in tight-fitting clothes and knee-high boots and wearing a long blond wig and a lot of make-up and pirouetting on the catwalk. Yes, that does make him proud.

“Bitch, you turned it!”

Brock grins, his cheeks pink. “Thanks, papi.”

  
Oh fuck, there they are again, the butterflies in his stomach. He doesn’t want to feel like that, he wants to distance himself, and Brock has no business calling him  _ papi _ in that tone. Or looking that cute. Damn him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all wanted B to appear, right? Well, there he is...


	8. Chapter 8

There’s an awkward silence between them, a tension hanging heavily in the air. They’re still eating cake and watching the show, but it’s not like before. Now José has a lot on his mind, and he suspects so does Brock.

“Did you remember anything?” It’s Brock who breaks the silence, but barely, his voice soft and low. He points at the TV again. “You know, about… Did it help?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Oh”, Brock looks sad, but doesn’t push the subject.

“I do have some stuff in my mind,” he confesses, voice also low. “But I don’t think they’re memories. They don’t really feel like memories. More like things I imagined. I don’t know, it’s hard to tell the difference, but I don’t think they’re real.”

“What things?”

He thinks about the dream he had, of making out with Brock half naked, and turns his head, scraping the last bites of cake. “Nothing important”, he says, before focusing on the TV again.

RuPaul says Brooke and Yvie are lipsynching, surprising him. “I thought it was going to be me.”

“Told you were good.”

“Yeah, but I thought maybe it would be both of us, you know, because…” he trails off, gesturing between them.

“Oh.” Brock smiles weakly and shakes his head. “No.” For a second it looks like he’s going to say more, but then he just shakes his head again.

They watch the lipsync, José fully screaming in delight at their movements. “Oh my god, I’m glad it wasn’t me! That bitch is made of rubber! And you’re good too! Damn!”

Brock laughs as he picks their plates and puts them on the arm of the sofa, out of reach of Thackery, who seemed ready to lick them clean. “Thanks.”

The episode is finally over and José starts the Untucked, but his mind is elsewhere again.

“How did… I mean, what… What happened, really? Between us?” he finally asks the question that’s been on his mind since the day before. “How did it start?”

Brock gives him a shy smile. “Well, you always say I started it, but that’s not true. You did. You were flirting with me, I thought you were really cute, I flirted back and… well, you know. It happened. It was very fast, but also very slow. It’s like we were in this weird time bubble, but I guess that was just what being on the show feels like. It was like the days passed too fast and also too slow. There was never time for anything, but at the same time it was like only a few days had passed even after it had been weeks. It was weird. And it was the same with us. It felt like we had been together for a long time, but at the same time like we’d just met. We hit it off pretty quickly, but we didn’t have much privacy, so at the same time things moved too slowly. It was weird, but nice. Definitely nice.” He ends with a large smile and José smiles back at him, wishing once more he had his memories back. That did sound nice.

He sighs, preparing himself for the other question he wants to ask, but almost doesn’t want to know. “Did you really cheat on me?” He put his feet on the couch, bending his knees in front of him and hugging a cushion to his chest, physically shielding his heart as if it could also protect his emotions. His fingers play with the fluffy ends of the cushion and he stares at them intently, not brave enough to meet Brock’s eyes. He almost wishes he hadn’t asked, but he also knows he won’t rest until he knows for sure.

“Who told you that?”

“Reggie. He said I said you did, but you said you didn’t. Did you?”

A second passes, then two, three, four… Finally Brock answers, murmuring. “Yes.”

It’s like a knife through José’s heart and the tears quickly fill his eyes and run down his cheeks. Why does it hurt this much? If it was so long ago, if he doesn’t even remember it happening, why does it hurt so much?

“At the time I said I didn’t because… Well, because I thought I didn’t. I thought it was only cheating if I had sex with someone else, and I didn’t do that, so… But later I realized that yes, I did.” He pauses, and José can hear him sigh. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I wish I could take it back, wish I could undo it. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved better. A better boyfriend.” His voice shakes and José looks up to see he’s crying too. “I’m so sorry, José.”

“Why?” it’s all he manages to ask.

“Why I cheated?” Brocks scoffs. “I don’t know. Because I'm an idiot?” He sniffs and wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “You know how Mama Ru is always talking about an inner saboteur? Oh, maybe you don’t. Well, the thing is, sometimes when you think you’re not good enough, you don’t deserve something, you sabotage yourself. I guess I thought I didn’t deserve you. I know it’s not an excuse, I just… I was afraid, and I did something stupid. Very stupid.”

“Afraid of what?” he whispers.

“Of falling in love with you” Brock whispers back, his big blue eyes locked with his, and it makes José’s heart skip a bit. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but like I said, I’m not very smart.”

“Why would you be afraid of that?”

Brock shrugs. “I don’t know. I had never felt something that strong for anyone before, and it was scary. I didn’t know what to do, how to act. I felt trapped by our relationship, when in fact it was my feelings that were trapping me. Sort of. I was confused and I lashed out in the worst way possible. I was afraid of falling in love and then getting hurt, so I tried to distance myself, I guess. Again, very stupid. And I know you don’t remember this, and I probably shouldn’t tell you, but it wasn’t the only time I did something stupid. I sabotaged us more than once.”

“Did it work?”

Brock looks at him quizzically, trying to understand his question, but then smiles and shakes his head. “Not at all. I still fell in love with you, hard. It was impossible not to.”

José sobs, the tears now falling freely, and Brock reaches out to wipe his tears. He flinches, turning his face, and Brock’s hand falls back on the couch. 

“I’m sorry” he whispers. “I’m really sorry.”

He hears it, understands it, but he can’t forgive him. Not yet. He knows it all happened a long time ago, but to him it was just a second ago. It’s all fresh and new and it hurts way too much, like Brock was holding his heart on his palm, but he wasn’t careful with it and instead he clenched it and burst it, leaving his chest hollow. 

“Please leave” he says, barely audible as he hides his face on the cushion.

He thinks for a second Brock didn’t hear him, but then he feels his weight lift off the couch and he’s grateful he didn’t insist. He hears as Brock and his mom murmur something, hears as the door opens and closes, but he keeps his face hidden until the sobbing stops and it seems like he’s run out of tears for the time being. 

His mom sits on the chair nearby and thankfully doesn’t say anything. He hands her the remote, avoiding her eyes.

“Here. Choose something else for us to watch. Anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?


	9. Chapter 9

José feels heartbroken and he doesn’t even understand why. He doesn’t remember his relationship with Brock, the actual break-up happened a very long time ago, he has no reason to feel this sad, and yet… 

He decides to focus on something else to give his heart some time to rest and heal, just like his body is doing. As much as he wants to continue watching Drag Race, he knows right now it’ll only cause him pain, so he focuses on other parts of his life. He asks his mom for updates on his family, feeling relieved to know everyone is doing well and also shocked to see how big his nieces are. He calls everyone from his mom’s phone, ecstatic to see videocalling is apparently common now. It feels good to reconnect with them, and they all say they’re happy to see him well, which warms his heart.

When his new documents and credit cards arrive, he nearly begs his mom to take him to the store to buy a phone. He knows he’s got a lot of money saved, nearly fell backwards when he saw how much, but he also knows he’ll have a lot of health expenses and it’ll take a while for him to get back to work, so he keeps in mind that he can’t splurge. Still, he buys the latest iPhone model and some accessories to go with it. Maybe he can splurge just a little. He feels like a child on Christmas morning, hardly listening while the salesperson helps him set up the phone and import all the stuff he used before. There are so many apps to discover that he barely knows where to start. He’s been wanting an iPhone for a while, and now he finally has one that is in fact capable of a lot more than he thought. 

His first stop is Instagram, of course, but he feels totally lost trying to navigate its functions. It frustrates him, making him feel like a grandma, and he makes a mental note to ask Reggie all about it later. He opens Twitter next, wondering if he’s still following his friends from Florida over there. He quickly gives up on that, the sheer volume of people and mentions driving him crazy.

Facebook it is then, though he doesn’t like it much. It’s easier to find his old friends there though, and he sends them a quick hello after he figures out how to navigate the app. Thankfully, that one is not super confusing. He wonders how long it’s been since he last talked to some of them and if they’ll find it weird that he’s messaging them now. Whatever, he almost died, he’s allowed to be weird.

Next he opens a bunch of other apps, exploring them, figuring out what they’re for (Tinder looks  _ very _ interesting, he’ll have to ask Reggie about that as well). The quality of the camera also shocks him, and he takes a bunch of pictures of Thackery just because he can - and because he’s the cutest model, of course. He takes a few selfies too, trying to find the best angles of his new face, but he’s still not fully back to himself and it bothers him, so he doesn’t dwell on that. 

Discovering Uber and UberEats opens a whole new world for him. He can’t drive yet, but now he’s not stuck at home anymore. And he can get any food he wants at pretty much any time of the day. He sets up his new credit card and immediately orders some sushi to celebrate. Then he proceeds to tell his mom she doesn’t need to be around so often anymore now, because he can get his own food and go anywhere he needs. She doesn’t seem very happy with that, but agrees that now that he can call her maybe she doesn’t need to spend the night anymore. She only leaves well after dinner time though.

Finally alone, he takes a long warm shower and moisturizes as well as he can with a broken arm. Then he lies in bed and gets his brand new phone to search for porn. It’s good to know at least one thing remains the same over the years, porn is always easy to find. He keeps his eyes open and his attention on the video on the small screen while he jerks off, afraid if he closes his eyes he’ll be attacked with visions of a tall blond Canadian. It doesn’t keep him out of his dreams, however, as he realizes the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reggie comes by the next day and he orders them some lunch, feeling very much like an adult now that he can actually take care of himself. For a moment he considers telling him what had happened with Brock a few days before, but he’s not ready yet. He briefly mentions that he hasn’t finished the season yet, claiming not to be in the mood, but Reggie doesn’t seem to mind, instead spending the best part of an hour feeding his Netflix list with shows and movies he apparently must see, and giving him a summary of each and every one of them to help him decide.

He also helps him with his new phone, thankfully, and that’s another hour on Tinder alone, teaching him not only how to work the app, but also how to work the boys (there’s a whole science to it, it seems). Then there’s Instagram, from post to stories, through tags and filters and DMs and a bunch of other features and informal rules that nearly make him dizzy, but he thinks he’s got it. He picks up Thackery for a selfie and posts it, including a cute caption, emojis and a hashtag, and immediately the comments start flowing. It’s a bit overwhelming, but he guesses he could get used to it. After that Reggie helps him with a bunch of other apps and settings on his phone, patiently explaining every little thing and for once being serious, not even once laughing at his ignorance, and José once again feels blessed to have such wonderful friends around him. 

He sets his phone aside for a while to listen to his friend complain about a boy he’s been seeing, feeling good that for once the drama is not centered on him. After a lot of gossip, more food and a couple of drinks (José is allowed to drink now, but he still has to take it easy), Reggie finally goes home, telling José to call him if he needs any help at all.

He’s surprised by the amount of notifications he has when he picks up his phone again, mostly from Tinder. Ok, in hindsight having Reggie help him with that might have been a bad idea. He has so many guys talking to him he barely knows where to start, so he fires quick generic answers to them and considers his work done for the time being. After that it’s Instagram. He likes some of the comments on his last picture, answers to some others. Brock has liked the post, but not made any comments. He scrolls down his own profile, seeing all the pictures and videos of himself performing. The more he watches himself, the more excited he gets that this is what he does for a living. It looks so fun! He can’t wait to be fully recovered and able to do all that again. He sees videos of himself on TV, on live shows with other queens, on DragCon, and the love from the fans is something he’s sure he’ll never get used to. And then he sees it: a picture of him and Brock, both in drag, Brock posing while he sticks his tongue out.

  
  
  


_ “Brooke, come here!” he shouts, waving to get the other queen’s attention. _

_ “What?” Brock shouts back from the stage where he’s getting ready. _

_ “Come here! I wanna take a selfie!” _

_ “I’m not dressed yet!” _

_ “Ha! Look who’s late now! It don’t matter, it’s just your face. Come here!” _

_ Even from afar he can see Brock roll his eyes, but he does as he was asked and comes down to stand next to him. _

_ Brock looks at the camera, giving it his best sultry stare, while he smiles brightly for a few seconds, before shouting “Ha! It’s a video!” _

_ Brock breaks character, chuckling and shaking his head. “You’re so stupid” he says, but he’s laughing. _

_ “Ok, again, again! I’ll take a photo this time, I promise.” _

_ Brock looks at him with an arched eyebrow, his blue eyes sparkling and small smile on is red-painted mouth.  _

_ “I promise!” he repeats, knowing the other is not really mad. _

_ “All right, again. But just one more time.” _

_ “Ok!” _

_ They stare at the camera again, Brock once more giving it a sexy look, while he chooses to stick his tongue out this time, and he takes the photo. _

_ “Ok, my turn.” Brock raises his phone up for them to pose. “I don’t trust you to post that with a good filter.” _

_ “Better than that white ass filter you always use.” _

_ “It’s a good one.” _

_ “For you maybe.” _

_ “Whatever, make a cute face.” _

_ “I’m always cute.” _

_ Brock chuckles again. “You know what I mean.” _

_ He gets closer to Brock, standing on his tiptoes to do so, and makes a kissing face. Brock takes the picture and looks at it on his phone. _

_ “We look good! I’ll post it.” _

_ He turns around, he laughs when he sees José is still pouting, asking for a kiss. He leans over, giving him a short and sweet kiss.  _

_ “Ok, now let me finish getting ready before you make me late.” _

_ “As if your ass would ever be late.” _

_ Brock, already back on the stage, turns quicky to wink and him and he smiles as he gets his phone and gets ready to post their picture. And maybe the video as well. Fuck Brock and his filter. _

  
  
  


“Oh my god! I remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your sweet comments, you guys are the best! I'm feeling very welcome.

His heart is thundering in his chest as he closes his eyes, focusing on the memory just recovered, trying to conjure up more, but his mind seems stuck on that one only. No matter how hard he tries to concentrate, the memory of that picture keeps looping inside his head over and over again. He remembers all about that memory, remembers they were on tour together along with some other girls and that they were in the UK. It wasn’t their first show, but it also wasn’t the last one, and he knows Brock and he were in one of their “good moments”. And then nothing. Everything before or after that is a blank. It makes him wonder if it even was a memory at all or if he has started hallucinating now. No, it has to be a memory. It _felt_ like a memory.

There’s only one person who can confirm that, even if it is the last person he wants to talk to right now. Taking a deep breath, he picks up the phone and searches through his contacts, but Brock’s name isn’t there, and neither is his alias. So they’re friends enough for his cat to be comfortable with him but not friends enough that he has his phone number? That makes no sense, and it makes him wonder about their relationship once more. Whatever, he can think about that later, he’s got more pressing matters at the moment. He goes to Instagram and hopes Brock checks his DMs often. 

Their last exchanged messages seem to be all audios, and he knows he’ll have to come back to hear those later, but right now all he does is send a quick, to the point message.

**I remembered something**

It takes barely a few seconds for the _Seen_ sign to appear, along with the three dots indicating that he was answering.

**About us** he adds, then waits, heart on his throat once again.

**What?** is all he gets as a reply.

**We were on tour** he starts typing, but erases and decides sending an audio is easier. If the option is there, why waste time writing?

“We were on tour in the UK and you were on stage getting ready and I called you down to take a selfie with me. It’s on my Instagram. I looked at it and remembered it.” 

He sends the audio, then immediatelly starts another one, giving as many details as he can. “You were wearing a long blond wig and bright red lipstick and I pretended I was taking a photo but I actually made a video at first. Then I took the picture, and you took one as well, and said you were going to post it, but I know you were going to add this filter you always used that I didn’t like.”

He takes another deep breath, trying to stop his voice from shaking as he sends the question he really wants to know. “Did that really happen? Was this a real memory?”

_Oh please say yes._

He waits what feels like an eternity until Brock sends him a picture from his own profile, and it’s clearly from the same day, and of course with the damn filter.

**This is the one I took**

Tears quickly rise in his eyes and he drops the phone, shaking. He remembers. He actually remembers something. He was so scared he’d never remember anything, so afraid years of his life had been lost forever, and the relief that washes over him is enormous. He got his memory back. It’s not much, it’s just one moment among millions, but it’s real, it’s true, it actually happened. He remembers something. And now he really believes that rest of his memories will come back as well. He had been telling himself it was just a matter of time, that he just had to be patient, but in reality he was scared it would never happen, that it couldn’t happen. Now he knows it can, and it will, and it really is just a matter of time. Oh, thank god! He’s 

going to have to tell his mom to light a bunch of candles for this miracle.

“Meow?”

He looks down at Thackery, who’s staring at him with curious eyes.

“I remember, Thackery!”

He picks the cat up, hugging him close and ignoring the small meow of protest. 

“I remember. I’m gonna be ok.”

With a kiss on top of Thackery’s head, he finally lets the cat go and grabs his phone back, still shaking.

**Guess you really remember**

**That’s fantastic!**

**José?**

**You still there?**

He smiles in spite of himself at Brock’s several messages.

**Yeah still here**

**I’m just so happy**

  
  


User bhytes started a video chat. Tap to join.

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Incoming video chat from bhyes.

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Video? Brock wants to talk to him through video? Ugh, he must look a mess! He quickly wipes his tears away and answers before he can second guess himself.

“Erm, hi.”

“Hi, there. You really remember, then?”

He can’t help but grin. “Yeah, I do.”

“You remember anything else?”

He twists his mouth from side to side. “No, not yet.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s ok. I’m sure it’ll all come back to you.”

He smiles again. “Yeah, I think so too.” He looks down and bites his lower lip, thinking. “You know… I was scared I wasn’t going to remember.”

“I’m sorry, papi,” Brock says in a sweet voice, and José actually believes him.

His eyes fill with tears again, but he makes no effort to hide them this time. “I thought I was never going to go back to normal”, he sobs, barely getting the words out.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Do you want me to go there give you a hug? I can get an Uber, be there in a few minutes.”

The thought is comforting, so comforting he almost forgets he’s supposed to be mad at Brock. But he shakes his head, sniffing.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’m just so relieved!”

“Me too.”

He looks into Brock’s eyes, and even through the camera he can see how sincere he is. He can also see he looks… different?

“What did you do?” He frowns. “You look different. Are you wearing makeup?”

Brock laughs loudly. 

“It’s a filter, José.”

“We can use those here?”

“Yeah, look at the bottom of the screen. Just choose one.”

“Oh, cool!”

He chooses one that changes his hair color first, twisting and turning so it’ll look different. 

Meanwhile, Brock chooses one that gives him huge lashes and a fake blush, and he laughs. “You look ridiculous.”

“Look who’s talking,” Brock retorts when he chooses a filter that makes him look like a fish next.

“Glub glub, motherfucker.”

Brock laughs again, snorting. Then he changes to a filter that gives him huge eyes and mouth, making him look like an alien and it’s José’s turn to lose all composure, laughing so hard his stomach hurts.

“What’s the problem?” Brock teases. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

When he finally stops laughing, Brock has gone back to his first filter and has a huge smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you laughing again, papi.”

He smiles back, feeling a warmth inside his heart.

“Brock?”

“Yes?”

“We… we’re friends... right?”

Brock sighs, then nods. “Yeah, we are. Best friends.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long, I swear it felt like I was writing this chapter two sentences at a time. But here you go, and hopefully I'll be able to write the next ones faster. Thank you for all the support and happy 2021 (let's hope it treats us more kindly than 2020).

“That bitch said what?”

José smiles at Reggie’s outraged expression on his phone screen.

“That we’re best friends,” he repeats. He has already called his mom to tell her that he got one of his memories back, and naturally the next thing to do was call Reggie, though he gave him some details he didn’t give his mom - Brock’s involvement in it, for example.

“That boy must be tripping! He ain’t your best friend, _I’m_ your best friend.”

José throws his head back as he laughs, thoroughly amused. 

“Best friend…” Reggie scoffs. “Brock ain’t your best friend, he a friend with benefits at best.”

José continues laughing for a few seconds, until what Reggie just said hits him.

“Wait… Not really though, right?”

“Not really what?”

“Brock and I aren’t really friends with benefits, are we?”

Reggie rolls his eyes. “You better not be. What did I tell you? That ship’s sailed, José.”

“Yeah, but… romantically, I get it. But were we… you know…”

“Bumping uglies? Not recently. I know you two were fucking a while ago, but it’s been months. And it wasn’t serious anyway, just, you know, sometimes you just gotta scratch that itch.”

José listens intently, reflecting over what he’s just been told and what Brock had told him about doing something stupid other times. From what he understands, they have been on and off for a while. But how long ago did it stop completely? Did it ever stop completely?

“You said months, so… We haven’t really been doing anything recently, right?”

“Not that I know of.” Reggie eyes him suspiciously. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me…”

“Bitch, I don’t remember if there’s something I’m not telling you, that’s exactly the point!”

Reggie shakes his head again. “Nah, I don’t think so. You haven’t talked about Brock in a while, and the last time I remember we were all together you too weren’t acting all flirty-flirty like you get sometimes, so I don’t think anything’s happened between the two of you for a while. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m pretty sure Brock was seeing someone, so there’s that.”

“Oh.” Good. That’s good. He does _not_ want to get involved with Brock again. Well, he _should not_. He has moved on, they both have. He’s dating someone else. Maybe he was dating someone else himself!

“What about me? Was I seeing anyone?”

“What do I look like, your secret diary?”

“I don’t remember anything!”

“Thought you just said you remembered something!”

“One thing! And a long time ago. I want to know recently, was I seeing anyone?”

“If you were, you didn’t tell me. Oh, wait, no… I remember you said you had a date with some trade, but you didn’t tell me his name. That was a while ago though, don’t think it went anywhere.”

He stays quiet, pondering. Brock hadn’t really flirted at any point, not that he had noticed. And no other guy had come up to visit him or made contact. Unless.... Unless he was lost in a sea of DMs, and if that was the case, it wasn’t worth it. There was no way he was going to read all those old DMs and messages, so unless the guy tried again, RIP him.

“Speaking of trade, how’s Tinder?” Reggie asks, slightly changing the subject.

José rolls his eyes. “Messy. I’m talking to a couple of guys in there, but chile, that’s too much. My ADD ass can’t keep up with more than one conversation at once.”

“Weak.”

“Not all of us can be hoes like you.”

“I’m not a hoe! Bitch, I’m all bark. But, you know, a girl’s gotta have options. Speaking of, gotta go, my date will be here soon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good luck. Enjoy yourself and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That leaves out almost nothing.”

“Fuck off.”

“Love you too. Talk to you later.”

He hangs up and drops on his back on the bed, starting at the ceiling and pondering about what Reggie had said. Did he have a boyfriend somewhere? Hm… probably not. Better to invest in a new one.

After spending some time talking to his Tinder contacts, he calls it a day and decides to do what he had given up doing before: finish his season of Drag Race. Remembering good times with Brock has given him the motivation he needed. He knows eventually they broke up, and he knows he’ll probably be sad when he gets that memory back, but now he’s also hopeful the show might unlock some more memories. Fingers crossed.

Watching them without his mom or Reggie around feels almost strange, but in a way it’s better because he feels like he can concentrate more. He cringes at his performances on the next episodes, but feels proud of himself for pulling off two very good lipsyncs and staying. Then it’s the make-over challenge and it actually looks like he’s going to win for a while, but his dreams come crashing down when RuPaul tells him he’s safe and announces Brock has won the challenge.

“Vanjie, we’re going on vacation!”

_“I was serious about the vacation, you know?” Brock tells him later that night when they’re going back to the hotel. They’re on the back of the van and he’s sitting sideways, his legs over Brock’s, head resting on his shoulder. They’ve made out a bit, but they’re both exhausted after such a long day and being so close to the end of the competition._

_He leans away from Brock and stares at him, a teasing smile on his lips._

_“You’re gonna take me to Aruba?” he murmurs back, trying to avoid being heard by the other girls, who are chatting away, but not very loudly._

_“Sure. Still think you should have won. It’s only fair you get to go too.”_

_“You know you’re not cashing that in anytime soon, right?”_

_Brock shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Whenever I get it, I’m taking you with me.”_

_“Really? Cause I’m pretty sure it’ll take like, at least a year.”_

_“So what?”_

_He raises his eyebrows. “You really think we’re still gonna be together in a year?_

_Brock rolls his eyes. “I’ll take you anyway, don’t worry.”_

_He purses his lips and looks down. “Hm. Thanks.”_

_“What?” Brock asks, smiling, seeming to notice he’s upset him. “What’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing.” He puts his hand under Brock’s sweatshirt, caressing his chest. “Let’s make out again.” He leans forward to kiss him, but Brock leans back away from him._

_“José, what’s wrong? What did I say? Do you_ not _want to go to Aruba? Are you upset you didn’t win? I don’t think it was fair either, but what could I do?”_

_He shakes his head quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just… I just want to make the most of our time together. It’s almost over… And apparently you don’t think we’re gonna last long.”_

_Brock snorts. “Oh my god, seriously?”_

_He knows he’s being a drama queen, but he can’t help but feel upset. He twists his mouth in annoyance. “Never mind, it was stupid.”_

_“Yes, it was.”_

_“Oh, wow, fuck you too.”_

_He moves to take his legs off of Brock’s lap, but he holds him in place, pulling him even closer to him._

_“I didn’t mean it like that.” Brock kisses him sweetly, lips barely moving before he pulls back._

_“I know.” He sighs. “I just wish this wouldn’t end.”_

_“You mean this,” Brocks gestures between them “or the competition.”_

_“Bitch, fuck the competition, I mean you and me.”_

_Brock laughs and kisses him again and this time he deepens the kiss, shifting so he’s pretty much on Brock’s lap._

_He still feels like they need to talk about this, about them and what they want - or don’t want - for the future. But that can wait. They still have a little bit of time. For now, all he wants to do is enjoy it while it lasts._

_“Oh guys, come on!” A’keria protests loudly from the front seat. “Again?”_


	12. Chapter 12

“Tell me why we’re here again?” José protests, looking around the packed club. Normally he loves clubs: the loud music, the blinking lights, the strong drinks, the hot bodies pressing against each other on the dance floor… What is there not to like? However, right now he pretty much feels like a fish out of water. He doesn’t know the club or the people - worse yet, they might know him, and the prospect is making him highly anxious.

“Because you need to get laid!” Reggie yells back, even though they were standing close to each other.

“I’m still injured.” He argues, showing his arm in a cast.

“Bitch, you broke your arm, not your dick. Now stop whining and let me help you out. You were the one who complained about Tinder”

He sighs. Reggie’s right. He does need to get laid. He literally can’t remember when the last time was, but he assumes it’s been quite a while. At least since the accident, and that was several weeks ago.

“That shit’s messy. You’re right, I do prefer this. It’s just… don’t leave me alone, ok? And don’t forget to tell me if I’m supposed to know someone.” He says that last part in a slightly lower voice and closer to Reggie’s ear. The music is loud, but he still doesn’t want to risk anyone hearing him. He’s keeping his amnesia a secret among only a few people, especially now that his memory is coming back and he’s pretty confident he’ll end up remembering everything in due time. 

He has remembered a little bit more while watching the last episodes of his season of Drag Race, and also after searching online for videos of himself. He remembers some of his shows, and remembers a bit about rehearsing and getting in drag, enough to make him want to try again as soon as possible. He’s just waiting for the cast to come off, but that should happen in the next week if everything goes according to plan, and then Reggie has already promised him he’ll help him get in drag again, even though he doesn’t have any bookings. “Just for practice,” he said when he asked his friend for assistance, “so when I do have something I’ll be really ready.”

He has also remembered a few things regarding his friends, and a lot about his relationship with Brock. Remembering their break-up made him cry again, and although most of his memories of them together were actually very happy, this one was enough to tarnish all the others. He’s been avoiding Brock since they’ve last spoken on the phone, ignoring his calls and replying to his messages with very short sentences, if at all. It isn’t Brock’s fault, not this time; he just doesn’t think he’d be able to talk to him right now without bursting into tears again, which isn’t really fair since the break-up happened years ago and they’ve both long overcome it, even if he doesn’t remember it. He just needs a bit more time to be really ok with it, for his heart to quiet down.

“How about that one?” Reggie nods toward the dancing floor. “In the cargo pants.” 

“Bitch, cargo pants? Really? Never. Next!”

“Hm, ok. Then that one, in the pink shirt.”

José looks at the guy. He’s about he’s height, very slim, short black hair. He seems cute. But then again, under the dim lights of the club, most guys look cute.

“Nah, too short.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s taller than you.”

“Shut up. Next!”

“Fine, fine. Lemme see… Ok, that one in the black tank top is totally your type, you can’t say no.”

He looks at the guy and oh, ok, he’s hot. Like, really hot. He’s tall and slim, but with a bit of muscle to him, shoulder-length blond hair, broad shoulders and strong arms in display.

“He’s… erm… too tall.”

“Too tall?!” Reggie exclaims in dismay. “Bitch, stop inventing excuses and just go talk to him!”

“It’s… it’s just… I’m a bit out of practice. What if I say something stupid?”

“José, you don’t have to say anything, you’re hot. Just show up and let him do the work.

He looks at the guy, sighing. Reggie is right again. He knows what to do, it’s far from his first time at the rodeo. Why is he second guessing himself so much?”

“Hold on.” Reggie orders another round of shots from the bar and sets one in front of him. “Here. Liquid courage.”

He downs the drink, wincing slightly before resolutely walking to the dance floor, trying to navigate through the crowd as quickly as possible before he loses his nerve.

He approaches the guy and starts dancing, moving his body to the rhythm of the pop song playing on the speakers, getting closer as he does so. The guy takes the hint quickly, thank god, gripping José waist and grinding their bodies together. He runs a hand through the stranger’s muscular chest, feeling something stir within him. He feels powerful, knowing he can get a guy this easily. Not that it has ever been difficult for him, but this is a new level. 

He angles his head up, asking for a kiss, and the guy closes the distance between them, bringing their bodies even closer. He deepens the kiss immediately and José feels almost light-headed. He feels a hand on his ass and moans into the kiss. It’s all very hot and sexy and… weird. Why does he feel so weird? The guy is very attractive and a great kisser, and yet… 

He pushes him away gently, breaking the kiss. 

“Sorry, I don’t feel very well,” he says in the guy's ear, making an apologetic face. He turns and leaves before the guy can answer, making a bee-line to where Reggie is standing, looking at him dumbfounded.

“What the hell happened?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know it himself. All he knows is it had felt weird, almost  _ wrong _ .

“Bad kisser” he lies. How can he explain to his best friend that he didn’t want to make out with a hot guy because he just  _ wasn’t feeling it _ ?

“Ugh. That’s ok, we’ll find you another one. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Actually, can we just go home?”

“What? But we just got here!”

“I’m a bit tired. Guess I wasn’t used to this anymore.”

“But we haven’t found you a man yet!”

“Reggie, please…” He gives his friend the best puppy eyes look he can muster, and he must actually look tired, because it works.

Reggie sights. “Alright, your call. We can try again another day.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He tosses and turns in bed, feeling exhausted but at the same time unable to fall asleep. He can’t stop thinking about the guy in the club. Why did he stop things? Ugh, he feels so stupid. The guy was sexy and obviously into him, he was horny as fuck and enjoyed the kissing, so why did he stop it? He wonders if the inner saboteur Mama Ru is always referring to also works on matters of love. Or, in this case, lust. Hadn’t Brock said something like that?

Damn it, why is he thinking about Brock again? The goal of the night had been to fuck a random guy so he wouldn’t feel so horny all the time and maybe then he’d stop thinking about Brock at random times. Well, he failed that one miserably. 

He picks up his phone, wondering if he should try Tinder one more time. Instead he hops from one social media app to the other, feeling unsettled. Bored, but unable to focus on anything, he opens his phone gallery, smiling at the last pictures of Thackery he took. He reaches out to stroke the soft fur of the cat, who is currently lying next to him, resting his face on his front paws. He keeps looking at the pictures, scrolling up until the first ones he took with this new phone, and then back the ones he took before the accident, the ones that, according to what the salesperson explained to him, are on the cloud. He’s still not sure how that works at all, but he’s glad he can look at those pictures. Come to think of it, why hasn’t he done that yet? Maybe that’ll help jog his memory a bit more.

Feeling suddenly excited, he sits up in bed and turns on the lamp. Thackery meows in protest at the disruption, walking to the edge of the bed to lie there, and José laughs at him.

Most of his pictures are either selfies or candids of Thackery, even from before. It’s almost comforting to know apparently his interests haven’t changed. There are some pictures of himself with friends - Reggie, Brock, some other RuGirls he recognizes and some more that he doesn’t. There’s his mom too, along with some pictures of nature that he must have taken on a particularly beautiful day and some of random objects that make him wonder why on earth he took them anyway. There are some videos too, and he watches them attentively, enjoying seeing himself play with Thackery, his mom dancing and joking and his friends messing around and laughing together. He’s still laughing from the last video when he moves on to the next picture and sees something that makes him toss the phone away. 

  
Is that  _ a dick _ ?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the absence people, RL kicked me in the butt.
> 
> Also, I guess now it's a good time to remind you that, in theory, this fic is rated Mature. You know, just saying...

José stares at the phone lying on top of the covers.

That was a dick. Why is there a picture of a dick on his phone? More importantly, why did he throw the phone far aways as if he didn’t like dicks or wasn’t interested in them? He’s  _ definitely _ interested in them. Come to think of it, Reggie had mentioned something about people sending each other naked pictures all the time, even strangers. So that must be what this was, a naked picture sent by one of his contacts. Maybe it was someone on Tinder. 

He picks up the phone again. Yep, definitely a dick. And hard. And attached to a very nice chest. A chest he does recognize…

He throws the phone again like it’s burnt him, making Thackery jump out of the bed, startled. Brock! That’s not any dick, that’s Brock dick!

And once more he feels like slapping himself because why is his first reaction being so shocked, goddamn it, he’s seen a dick before. Several, actually. Including this one, though he doesn’t remember it. Yet. Looking at pictures has been eliciting memories from him, right? So maybe…

He picks up the phone once more to look at the picture, staring at it intently, roaming his eyes through every little part of it, zooming in and out to take a better look. He’s only doing that because it might make him remember something, of course. Not because seeing Brock’s naked body is making him hot all over, his own dick hardening and his mouth salivating. It’s just… research.

He bites his lip and touches the base of his dick through the covers, sighing, then shakes his head and takes deep breaths. He can’t do that. He’s just too horny. He should have gone home with the guy from the club after all.

He looks at the picture again, cursing it. So many pictures and videos were making him remember stuff, why wasn’t this one? At least he’d have something more to jerk off to. Wait, no. That’s not what he meant at all. Traitor brain! Why can’t he think clearly? He’s got to focus. He can’t masturbate to Brock’s naked picture! He just can’t, because…. Because… wait, why can’t he? 

_ It’s not like Brock will find out anyway _ , the demon over his shoulder tells him.  _ Plus, if he sent him this photo, wasn’t that the goal?  _

_ Yes, but that was before _ , argues the angel on the other shoulder. _ And you’re trying to move away from Brock, not back to him. He hurt you, remember? _

_ You’re already thinking about it _ , the demon counter argues.  _ The only difference is now you’ve got an image to go with it. _

_ But if you do it _ , the angel tries once more,  _ you’ll end up doing it again and again and you might fall in love with him again just because you keep imagining you two together, but he doesn’t want you like that, so you’ll just end up hurt. _

_ That’s true _ , the demon consents.  _ But I’m afraid it’s much too late for that, he’s clearly already in love again… _

“Shut up!” 

Oh great, he’s going crazy. Telling the voices in his mind to shut up? That’s certified looney shit. With a sigh, he gets up and ushers Thackery out, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t need to witness this. 

He gets back in bed and turns off the lamp. Somehow being in the dark makes him feel a little bit less guilty about this. And it doesn’t hurt that it helps with the fantasy. 

He takes his phone and looks at the picture again, allowing himself to imagine, since his memory refuses to collaborate, that he’s kissing Brock, feeling the heat of his body close to his while Brock’s strong hands grip his ass. He studies Brock’s chest in the picture, imagines that he’s kissing and biting all over it, leaving red marks on the pale skin, listening to Brock’s sighs and low moans and words of praise when he takes his cock into his mouth. He can nearly taste it, can almost feel it filling his mouth while his hand works quickly on his own dick. He has no patience today, his whole body crying with need as his hand moves faster, twisting and pressing just the way he enjoys most, the way he knows is going to make him come faster. He bites his lips as he feels his orgasm approaching, closing his eyes and imagining Brock is still in his mouth, whispering his name between his moans, his breathing labored until finally he comes. And it’s José who comes, and it’s his own moans that he has to hear, his own dick that is in his hand. And it feels so, so good, but at the same nowhere near good enough, and so, so lonely.

His eyelids feeling suddenly heavy, he decides his loneliness is a problem for another day. For now, he cleans himself up and covers himself before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A low vibrating sound wakes him up, and it takes him a few moments to situate himself. Oh, right. He’s in his bedroom. He fell asleep right after… right. He jerked off to Brock’s dick pic. Great. Now he’s never going to get over his crush. And what is that noise…? Oh, his phone!

He reaches out to his phone, which is resting on the nearby pillow, and squints over the brightness of the screen, not even seeing who’s calling before he answers it, his voice still rough from sleep.

“Hello?”

“Oh, shit, did I wake you?”

“Brock?”

“I thought it was late enough that you’d be up by now. Sorry.”

“That’s ok.” It’s not, really, he’d rather have slept more, but hearing Brock’s voice puts him in a better mood already.

“Got any plans today?”

“Hm, not really. I mean, nothing with other people. Why?”

“Wanna hang out?”

He pauses. Does he want to hang out with Brock? Does he want to hang out with the guy who he just jerked off to? Same guy who, according to Reggie, might be his fuckbuddy? Wait… Why if that’s why he’s calling? Is “hang out” an euphemism for “have sex”? Is this a booty call?

“José? You still awake?”

“Yeah, yeah, I… erm… sorry. Erm… yeah, sure. We can hang out.” If the universe is trying to hand him Brock’s dick on a silver platter, he’s not going to say no. Maybe that’s why he decided not to fuck the guy at the club yesterday. Everything happens for a reason, right?

“Great. Then open your door, I’m right here.”

Wait, what did he say? Right here? As in, right now, when José has just woken up and is still naked, with bleary eyes and messy hair?

“The fuck?”


	14. Chapter 14

José opens the door after rushing to put on some sweatpants, wash his face and push his still kind of short hair down as best as he can.

“Hi” he says, coyly, though in fact what he wants to say is “bitch, give me some warning next time”. But if Brock came over for sex, starting a fight is not the way to go. Though who booty calls in the middle of the day and completely sober?

“I brought you some cookies and a cup of boba”, Brock says, setting a brown bag on the kitchen table and offering him a plastic cup with a brownish liquid and several small black balls inside.

“The fuck is this?”

“Boba. Drink up, you like this.”

He eyes the drink suspiciously, then opens the bag Brock brought to peer at the contents inside. Brock has already moved into the living room, Thackery rubbing on his legs and meowing loudly. 

“Has your daddy not fed you yet? Oh, poor baby!” Brock picks the cat up to talk to him.

“I just woke up!” José defends himself, taking a sip of the said boba which, ok, is pretty good. How does Brock know all the stuff he likes?

“Why you always bringing me food? You trying to get me fat?” he complains jokingly as he takes a big bite of a chocolate chip cookie. 

Brock laughs as opens the cupboard and gets a can of wet food for Thackery. 

“You could use some extra meat” he says, winking and quickly pinching at José’s waist before turning to feed Thackery. “Here you go, baby. Good boy.”

José just stands there, rooted to the spot. The wink, the pinch… There’s no way that’s a coincidence. Brock’s definitely flirting. Yup, he came over for sex.

He quickly finishes his drink and his cookie and walks over to the couch, where Brock has already made himself comfortable, taking off his shoes and sitting cross-legged on it, smiling brightly at him.

“I… I just got up.” He stands in front of Brock, his bare-chest leveled with his head, and Brock has to look up to talk to him. “I should probably take a shower…” He tries to say that as seductively as he can, cocking his head to the side and stepping even closer.

“Ok!” Brock grabs the remote control for the TV. “I can wait. I’ve nowhere else to go.”

_ Damn it _ . 

He gets ready as quickly as he can with a broken arm, refusing to give in to the temptation of jerking off in the shower, not when he is about to get the real thing. Gotta save his energy.

Fresh out of the shower, doused in perfume and with his hair styled as best as possible, he steps into the living room, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. Brock is still on the couch, Thackery curled up next to him, and looks up when he hears him come in. José doesn’t miss the way Brock’s eyes flicker down his body before he looks up at him and smiles.  _ Interesting… _

“All clean”, he proclaims, turning around to emphasize his world. 

He watches as Brock swallows dry and nods, his smile tight. “I can see that.”

There’s a moment of silence as they just look into each other’s eyes. 

“You smell good, papi.”

He ignores the heat he can feel on his cheeks and takes the few steps between them, positioning himself in front of Brock again, who looks at him with a slight frown of curiosity.

“Bet I taste even better.” He drops the towel and Brock’s eyes go wide. 

“José!” 

“What?!” Oh god no. Did he misread the situation?

“What are you doing?”

“I… I thought… Isn’t there why you’re here?”

“What? No!”

He can feel the tears threaten to come again, so he quickly flees to his bedroom, leaving his towel on the floor. He slams the door behind him, locking it for good measure, and throws himself onto the bed. He feels so humiliated. He likes flirting, but he’s usually not so forward. This time though, he’d been so sure… 

“José?” Brock’s voice is accompanied by three knocks on his bedroom door. He pushes his face into the pillow, feeling the hot tears running down his face. Maybe if he ignores him, he’ll go away?

“José, please open the door.” Shit.

“Go away!”

“Baby, can we talk? Please?”

“Leave me alone, Brock!” Hasn’t he humiliated him enough? Does he have to rub it in how he doesn’t want him even as a fuckbuddy?

“José, please… You just caught me by surprise. It’s not that I don’t want you…”

He sniffs and sits on the bed.

Taking his silence as permission to speak, Brock continues. “I’ll never  _ not _ want you. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

He gets up and wraps his sheet around his body, leaving just his face free. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and opens the door. He knows he probably has a red nose and tear marks on his face, but right now that is the least of his worries.

“Really? You mean that?” he asks, his voice small. 

Brock pouts when he sees him, clearly feeling bad. “Oh papi, I’m so sorry! Come here.”

Brock pulls him closer and he buries his face on his chest, nearly purring. Brock pulls down the sheet from his head and strokes his hair, giving him a kiss on the temple.

“I mean it,” he finally replies, pulling back to look into José’s eyes. “I was just surprised. I… Where did that come from?”

José groans. “Ugh, it’s stupid. I just thought…” He walks back into the room and picks up his phone from the bedside table, unlocking it.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” He shows Brock the naked picture he jerked off to the night before. “Please tell me it is and I haven’t made even more of a fool of myself.”

To his relief, Brock laughs. “Yup, that’s me alright.”

“Oh, thank god. See, that’s why I thought…And Reggie said...”

“Reggie said what?”

José sighs. “Nothing. Never mind.” He sits on the bed, setting the phone on the bedside table again. “It was stupid.”

Brock sits next to him and gently lifts his chin, forcing him to look into his blue eyes. “What did Reggie say?” 

José can feel his heart thundering in his chest with how close to Brock he’s sitting. He takes a deep breath, trying to control himself. 

“Reggie said we used to be, erm, friends with benefits. And then I saw the picture and I thought maybe we still were. And then you showed up out of nowhere and started flirting with me, I thought…”

“I wasn’t flirting with you,” Brock interrupts him.

“Oh. Great. Add salt to the wound, bitch.”

Brock has the nerve to laugh, and José just glares at him.

“Ok, fine, maybe I was flirting a little.”

He continues to glare.

“I don’t always mean to, you know.” Brock grabs his hand and the warmth feels so familiar he nearly starts crying again. “I guess I’m always flirting with you, even when I’m not aware of it.”

He can’t help the smug smile that appears on his lips when he hears that. 

“So… You didn’t come over to fuck?”

Brock smiles softly at him. “I came over because I missed you. All of you.” He rests his forehead against his and José swallows dry, overcome with emotion.

“José?” Brock whispers.

“Yeah?” His reply is also a whisper, barely audible.

“Can I kiss you?


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this chapter. I was unsure of how to proceed, but I got there at the end. And thank you Poppedthep, weStan and Icametoseethecat for listening and advising, you were all super helpful!
> 
> Also, here's where the rating Mature really comes into play. Please don't read if you're not comfortable with smut.

“Can I kiss you?” Brock asks, and José nearly forgets how to breath. His heart is beating so fast he’s afraid it’ll burst with happiness, his mind completely blank except for the want, the  _ need _ he has for this man. He nods, licking his lips, and Brock leans over, closing the gap between them. His lips are soft and inviting and so familiar he feels like he’s finally  _ home _ . Brock deepens the kiss, their tongues dancing together, and José moans softly at the feeling. His whole mind and body are focused on the man next to him, kissing him, and he allows himself to let go and just enjoy the moment. It feels  _ right _ , like this is where he’s supposed to be, like this is what he’s supposed to do. He understands now why he stopped the kiss with the stranger at the bar: he wasn’t Brock. And Brock is the only one he ever wants to kiss again. 

He leans backward, falling onto the mattress and pulling Brock on top of him. Brock pulls back slightly, supporting his weight on one hand as he looks into José’s eyes, smiling.

“You ok?”

José smirks. “Do I look like I’m about to complain?”

Brock laughs softly and gently caresses his cheek. “Just checking. Did you...did you remember anything else?”

“Not really.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “I mean, not like the other times, when I could see stuff in my head. It just… It felt…  _ right _ . You feel right. Familiar. Your kiss, your touch, your smell, everything is just… like I’m supposed to kiss you.”

Brock smiles almost shyly and bumps their noses.

“Well,” he whispers, “who am I to say no, then?”

He captures José’s lips between his again and José feels like his whole body is at the same time burning and melting under his touch. Brock pulls back to kiss his jaw, his neck, his chest, his hands softly caressing his body, scorching every inch on their path. He moans when Brock touches him through the towel and locks eyes with the blond man.

“This ok?”

He nods, unable to speak through his arousal. He’s never felt shy like this before, but for some reason Brock has rendered him speechless. Normally he knows what he wants in bed and he’s quick to let whoever he’s with know too, but right now he feels almost powerless, like he couldn’t stop Brock from doing whatever he wants with him even if he wanted to - and god knows he really doesn’t want to. 

He feels Brock’s lips on his stomach, his fingers softly caressing his inner thighs, and huffs in frustration. Brock laughs softly before taking him into his mouth. He takes turns sucking at the head and deep-throating him, making him squirm and moan, and he’s panting within minutes. Brock pauses to lick at his thighs again, to take his balls into his mouth, and José can feel the tension building up in his body, ready to explode. Brocks switches to placing soft kisses on his stomach while he ever so gently runs a finger along the large vein on his dick. His touch is feather-like, just enough to tease him, to keep him on edge. 

José watches him as he takes him into his mouth again, bobbing his head while sucking eagerly. Visions of other moments like this flash before his eyes, but it’s all too quick for him to grasp, too much and nothing at the same time, and it doesn’t matter anyway, nothing matters except for the here and now, for the man between his legs making him feel like the most important person in the world. 

He feels his climax approaching and fights to keep his eyes open and locked to the blue ones that seem to be staring right into his soul, but it’s a lost cause, for less than a minute later he’s coming, eyes closed and head thrown back as he lets out a guttural moan and a loud “Fuck!”.

He falls back into the mattress again, panting, completely spent but still grinning from ear to ear, soft giggles shaking his body. Brock kisses his stomach, then his chest, all the way up to his neck and finally his lips. He deepens the kiss and José can feel the taste of his own come on his tongue, the feeling intense and intoxicating.

He allows Brock to kiss him for a minute before he pushes him to the side, making him lie on his back and quickly straddling him. He nearly rips the shirt Brock is wearing trying to open it with a broken arm (and maybe he should have, it is hideous) and kisses all over his face and chest, quickly and intensely, reveling in the way Brock laughs at him, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He wants to take his time, to explore his body inch by inch, to reacquaintance himself with every little bit of Brock, but that will have to wait. Instead he pulls down his shorts, happy to see Brock had decided to go commando today. He stops and licks his lips, appreciating the dick in front of him. Again a few flashes of them together come to mind, but nothing he can grasp at, not that he wants to at the moment. He’s got better things to focus on.

“You don’t have to,” Brock says softly, and he looks up at him, nearly offended.

“Have to? Bitch, I  _ want _ to! You think I’m gonna let your ass leave unsat… dissat… not finished?”

Brock laughs. “Well, that’s not gonna take long at all, papi.”

Brock grins at him and he smirks back before he leans over and licks a broad stripe from the base to the head over his dick, gently running the tip of his tongue through the slit and collecting all the precum. He licks his lips and looks back at Brock for approval. His pupils are blown and his face and chest are a light shade of red and José licks his lips, tasting him. Brock lets out a low groan and he smirks deviously, finally taking him into his mouth. He puts his free hand around the base and moves it in synchrony with his lips, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard, feeling rewarded when Brock jerks and curses.

“Oh, fuck, José. I missed you. You’re so,  _ so _ good, baby”, he says in a raspy voice, and José doesn’t think he meant to say it, but it makes him feel oddly proud of himself. He wants nothing more than to hear Brock praise him like that again and again.

It doesn’t take long before Brock is breathing hard, a jerk of his hips and a hand on José’s shoulder warning him that he’s close even before he says the words aloud. He explodes in his mouth and he takes it all, swallowing quickly and to the last drop, licking his lips when he’s done. He crawls up the mattress for a passionate, dirty kiss, this time Brock’s turn to taste himself.

“Did I do good?” he whispers, smiling, and feels his heart warm when Brock looks right into his eyes, smiles and nods.

“You did great.”

_ I love you. _ He wants to say it, almost does it, but holds himself. Does he, really? He barely remembers the relationship they had. And even if he does, Brock doesn’t. They’re friends with benefits, nothing more. He can’t let himself get attached (he ignores the part of him screaming that he already is).

“I think you should go,” he says before he loses his courage, avoiding Brock’s eyes as he rolls over and stands up, walking to his closet to grab some clothes.

“Erm… I thought we were going to watch some TV.”

He sighs, purposefully taking a lot longer than necessary to find something to wear.

“I don’t really feel like it. Thanks for the food, though.” He turns and gestures to the bed where Brock is still sitting, looking confused. “And the, er, you know.”

Brock nods. “Right.” He smiles at him and José feels his resolve fading fast. He needs Brock to leave immediately. “Any time, papi.”

He can’t help but smile back, but turns his back to him quickly, still under the pretense of getting some clothes. He can’t let Brock see how much it’s hurting him to tell him to go, how much he wishes he’d stay. But he knows that if he does it’ll only hurt more in the long term. So he gets dressed in silence and when he turns Brock is already dressed too, and walking into the bathroom to quickly freshen up.

José watches as he goes into the living room to put on his shoes and scratch Thackery’s chin and sighs. Why does he have to be so freaking perfect? Even his dick looks good!

José opens the front door and purses his lips, attempting to smile and doing his best to keep his emotions in check.

“See you later?” he asks, and maybe there’s more hope in his voice than there should be.

“Sure.” Brock lingers in front of him, looking endearingly unsure of himself, and José can’t resist closing the space between them and kissing him. It’s short and sweet, all the fire from mere moments before seemingly gone for now, but it still makes him dizzy with joy.

With one last smile Brock’s gone, and only after locking the door behind him does José allow himself to exhale and lean against the door, reflecting on what has just happened.

_ Oh, shit. What now? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that escalated quickly. Angsty boys gotta angst.


End file.
